Here At The End Of All Things
by misgivings
Summary: Weeks after being sent to rescue any civilians that survived the outbreak, Lieutenant Colonel John Cena and his squad—stranded, unable to contact anyone and still in search of survivors—struggle to survive themselves. Punk/Cena, Dean/Seth, Kane/Daniel, Dolph/AJ, and background pairings.


**Summary:** The year is 2015. When a virus is discovered in a patient at a Los Angeles hospital, the government, unaware of how deadly the virus is, rushes to create a cure—one that fails miserably. The patient flat lines in surgery before surging up from the operating table and throwing up blood a few seconds later. From there, things go downhill as the virus spreads through the hospital, and then the city of Los Angeles. In an attempt to contain the situation, barriers and road blocks are built around the state of California, trapping the remaining occupants of California. Now, weeks after being sent to rescue any civilians that survived, Lieutenant Colonel John Cena and his squad—stranded, unable to contact anyone and still in search of survivors—struggle to survive themselves.

**Pairings:** Established Punk/Cena, Kane/Daniel, Dolph/AJ, and implied or mentioned background pairings.

**Warnings:** Graphic violence, major character death, minor character death, profane language, and slash.

**Notes:** This turned into a monster, ironically. Every fandom needs a zombie apocalypse AU, though, right? Because the guys (and gals) are soldiers, their real names _are_ used when formally addressed, and their ring names are used as nicknames. At least, that's the case for a good few. To save everyone multiple trips to Google, I've listed the names, in order from highest (military) rank to lowest rank. Just go to Pastebin and enter J1cP5jnf after a slash. And yes, the squad name is completely inspired by Resident Evil. Happy reading!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If I did, I don't think I'd be sitting around and writing fanfiction. The title is derived from the following quote, one of my personal favorites from the LotR series.

* * *

_"I'm glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things."_  
_— The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_

* * *

**B**odies. There were bodies everywhere. The breath caught in John's throat as his eyes scanned the room—the blood decorating the walls, the dead bodies littering the floor, the lifeless eyes staring back at him. He noted everything, including the way a boy was curled around a younger girl, obviously in an attempt to shield her from whoever or whatever had caused the destruction.

John wanted to throw up. He never understood why anyone wanted to harm innocent children, least of all kill them. Then again, from what he'd read in the police reports, they weren't exactly dealing with humans here. John looked down at his shaking hand and imagined how he would feel if it were his own children lying before him in a pool of blood.

A familiar voice startled him out of his reverie.

Turning, John looked back at Punk and watched as the other man took in the disturbing sight before them. "Jesus," Punk said. His eyes met John's and he gestured to the door behind him. "We have to get out of here."

Unable to say anything in response, John nodded, understanding the danger they were putting themselves in by being there. He followed Punk out of the dingy room wordlessly, studying the way Punk carried himself as they fled the abandoned apartment building. Something seemed off. Fear replaced the horror he had felt just moments before. "Where are the others?" At Punk's silence, John placed a hand on the Major's shoulder and stilled his movements. "_Brooks_, where are the others?"

Punk averted his gaze. "Haven't heard you call me that in a long time."

"Don't change the subject."

With a resigned sigh, Punk sat down on a nearby bench. "Sit," he said. When John didn't, he added, "please," so desperately it shook John's resolve. John took the offered seat, growing impatient as Punk struggled to break the bad news to him. "Reigns..." A pause. "Roman is dead, John."

John froze. "If this is some kind of sick joke—"

Shaking his head, Punk murmured, "I wish it was."

Guilt settled in John's stomach as he recalled the promise he had made to the squad when they'd lost contact with their commanding officers. "You're going to make it back home," he'd told them. "I swear to God, if it's the _last_ thing I do, you're gonna make it back home. I'll make sure of it." Trust had been so plain to see in each of their eyes that day and now... now he had failed them.

As if reading his mind, Punk grabbed John's chin and forced the other man to look at him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" asked John.

"You _know_ what," Punk told him. "You're blaming yourself. Don't."

"Is that an order, Major?"

The bitterness in John's voice made Punk retract his hand, a scowl replacing the concern etched on his face. "If it knocks some sense into you, _Lieutenant Colonel_, then yes, it is an order." All that earned him was a humorless laugh on John's part. Punk's expression hardened. "Blame me, hit me, yell at me. I don't give a shit. Whatever you dish, I can take. But don't pull this crap, John. You can't save everyone."

"That's the _problem_, Phil," John choked out. "I _can't_ save everyone, but that didn't stop me from swearing to you and the others that I would do everything in my power to make sure you all got back home."

"You don't think I haven't made promises I couldn't keep? You don't think Randy, Daniel, Chris, or anyone else on this squad has blood on their hands? Because damn it, John, I do, and they do, too. Stephen told me that April blames herself for not being able to save him. And how much are you willing to bet that Seth and Dean feel equally responsible? We weren't there, John. There wasn't anything you could have done. Do you hear me? There wasn't anything you could have done."

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, John attempted to pull himself together. He wondered, then, what had happened to Roman, and who was with him at the time. Based on what Punk had told him, he assumed it was Seth and Dean. They had formed a little trio when the squad was introduced to one another, jokingly calling themselves The Shield. Everyone had laughed as Seth explained to them that the squad was John's armor.

"Major Brooks would be your sword, Boss. And we'd be your shield, obviously. Sergeant Lee would be your helmet, because she's always telling us to _stay safe_ and _be careful_. The others would be the rest of your armor."

"Just make sure you take off your armor before you decide to sword fight," Eve had added.

A smile had graced Punk's lips as AJ's face scrunched up. John, however, had outright laughed at what she had to say. "Can we _not_ talk about our commanding officers screwing around? I feel like we're gossiping about our parents' sex life."

It had been so easy to joke and tease at the time—a lifetime ago, before everything went to hell.

"No one else is hurt," Punk continued, unprompted, "unless we're speaking in terms of mental and emotional health. But we should regroup."

John could only nod.

oOo

When they returned to camp, they weren't expecting the others to be sitting around the fire pit, recalling stories about their fallen comrade. "He told me we were the closest thing he had to family one night," Ambrose was saying. "I laughed at him and called him a fairy. He threw a pillow at my face."

Rollins looked skeptical. "You called him a fairy?"

"And lived to tell the tale?" Kaitlin whistled. "I was wrong, Ambrose. Maybe you do have balls."

Dean flipped her off, earning himself a second round of laughter from the group. "The guy sounded so damn sincere. He even quoted Disney at me, the little shit. _Ohana means family, Dean, and family means no one gets left behind_. Who the hell quotes Disney in the middle of the night, especially in a place like this?"

"I think you should be asking yourself a different question, fella," Stephen joined in.

"Yeah," said Seth, "like how the hell you know that's a Disney quote."

Suddenly regretting his decision to share anything at all, Dean groaned. "It's a long story. There was this chick in high school that I banged and... You know what? I can't believe I'm sharing this with you guys. That wasn't even the point of the story." He went to take another swig of his beer before deciding against it. "I'm shit at showing emotions. I know that. Everybody here knows that. And when Reigns told me what he did, my immediate reaction was to tease him, even though—" Dean cut himself off, furiously wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Even though you guys are the closest thing I have to family, too."

The women apparently didn't need to hear any more, because in the blink of an eye, three pairs of arms were wrapped around him. When it seemed like they had no intention of letting go, John finally cleared his throat and made his presence known. "Ladies, I think Sergeant Ambrose would very much like his oxygen and blood circulation back."

Jericho snickered as they released Dean with halfhearted apologies and lingering touches. "Please, this is probably the closest he's gonna get to getting any action."

"Feeling unloved, Captain?" Punk teased.

Ignoring the playful banter that followed, John opted to take a seat beside AJ, offering her a small smile when she glanced at him questioningly. "You heard," she said, more than asked. He didn't reply, instead wrapping his arm around her and pretending not to notice when she cried softly into his shoulder. They sat in relative silence when she finally calmed—it had taken her less than fifteen seconds to regain her composure, John had noted, impressed—and watched the others talk quietly among themselves.

"It wasn't your fault," John said after a beat.

"Just like it wasn't yours," AJ responded immediately.

A laugh, then, "No wonder Phil likes you so much."

"Not as much as he likes you."

oOo

The following morning, when only a few of them were awake, John asked for a recollection of what had happened the previous day.

"An explosion," Randy said by way of explanation.

Daniel didn't seem too bothered relaying the rest of the information to their superior. "There was a lot of blood," he said. "We're not sure what came first: the bite or the explosion. Either way, April didn't realize he was infected until it was too late. We thought we'd taken care of the walkers, but maybe one had managed to bite him in that time frame."

"There's also the possibility that he was infected days ago," Dolph added quietly.

"Even then," Daniel continued, "April still thought she could save him. By the time we realized he had been infected, a bullet was already in his skull, right before he could do any damage to her." He must have seen the question in John's eyes, because he said, "Jericho," with no further explanation.

Punk swore. "Someone should warn a guy about a colleague shooting another colleague before he gets into a verbal wrestling match with him."

"We're all prideful men here," said Randy. "Jericho, especially. He wouldn't want to be treated any differently just because something shitty happened. None of us would." A pensive silence fell on them, lasting for a long while as the sun gradually brightened. The others would join them shortly, John was sure, but in the meantime, he could learn to enjoy the momentary peace and quiet.

* * *

**Notes:** I've never kicked a fic off with a character death before, so it's surely a new personal record for me. I'd originally planned on writing this as a long one-shot, but it occurred to me that it would be a smart idea to first see if anyone is at all interested in the overall plot. Let me know what your thoughts are!


End file.
